


A Life Lived In Song

by HaloNoir



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2762042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaloNoir/pseuds/HaloNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Coda, Rick suffers the funeral. Not too shippy, unless you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Life Lived In Song

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while listening to "Oh Shenandoah" as sung by Sissel, which can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDkFG44AXwU  
> I think it will heighten the story.

It was a windy, golden day in the autumn, the day that they buried Beth Greene. The leaves fluttering to the ground like rain, the sighing of the branches in the breeze making it seem that even Georgia grieved.

Rick cast his eye around the semicircle of his friends, his family. Their eyes were all cast down, the soil wet with their tears. Carl hiccupped with sobs besides him, despite all his efforts to be grown up, he was unmanned by his heartbreak. Rick wanted to reach for him but his arms were full with a squirming Judith, clutched to his chest. She burbled in sad confusion and Rick felt the bitter tightness at the back of his throat as he tried to contain himself.

His eye caught on Maggie knelt beside the still open pit, her howls reduced to whimpers now, having exhausted herself. Glenn’s hands were white on her shoulders, his face a mask, trying to keep it together for his wife’s sake.

Father Gabriel was making himself useful for the first time, reading some passage that Rick had heard before at other, less significant, less awful funerals. He patted Judith on the back, trying to sooth her, but she just started to cry quietly, as though sensing the mood, and he wondered how much she understood.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew that realistically that Judith would not remember Beth: she was still so little, not even a year yet. But for those six months or so, Beth had been the only mother she’d ever known. Hell, for the first few she’d been the only parent, period. She had rocked the baby through the hard nights, smiled at her and burped her, never complaining. Never feeling aggrieved for her years of lost youth. Rick owed her everything. And now the blonde girl, daughter and mother, lay still and pale below him. Rick swiped at the tears tracking through the grime of his face with the back of his hand and tilted his face towards the sun. Anywhere but below.

There was a soft thump as the Father closed his book and nervously surveyed the crowd. Rick wondered if anyone had the strength to speak, he wasn’t sure he was up to the task. It should have been have been him or Maggie or even Daryl, but Maggie was hoarse and Daryl hadn’t spoken since they’d left Grady. He was slumped, had been motionless for hours, hands still bleeding from digging the grave. He’d only let Rick help when he’d threated to knock him unconscious.

Rick tried to clear the blockage in his throat, refusing to let his friend’s funeral pass without some kind of eulogy. But he was surprised to be beaten to it, by Michonne.

“We lost something today. Not just someone: a friend, a sister, a mother. She was all that. But some _thing_ , too. Beth was the best of us, pure and good. Maybe too good. Beth was hope. Of something better.” Daryl’s form shifted for the first time, an almost imperceptible tilt of the head, something in Michonne’s words rousing him.

“Beth told me once,” her voice cracked for the first time, but she bulldozed through, her eyes bright and furious, “that when you love people, hurt is kind of the package. And I wish it wasn’t, but it’s true. I know some of you weren’t lucky enough to know her, but those that did, we are better for having known Beth.”

Michonne walked carefully around the grave until she got to the mound of dirt and picked up a handful.

“Goodbye Beth, and thank you.” The soil slipped between her fingers into the grave and Rick blinked furiously against the sting in his eyes.

Tyreese cleared his throat and spoke lowly, looking embarrassed.

“I didn’t know Beth too well, but I’m still going to miss her something fierce. She was love and light and laughter and we don’t get too much of that these days.” His voice tapered off nervously and his sister picked up from him.

“I always think of her with Judy. How sweet she was. And singing. I’m gonna miss her singing.” There was a general murmur of assent and Rick saw a flash of Beth lit up by firelight, smiling and tapping out a tune.

Carol picked up a fistful of dirt and sprinkled it below. The vision disappeared.

“She saved my life. She was too good for us. For this world. Things won’t ever be the same without her.”

Carl dragged his sleeve across his face as he went to pick up some of the grave dirt too.

“Love you.” Was all he could manage. Rick moved to follow, his throat still too raw to try speaking. As he bent, though, the quiet was broken by a nervous, quiet voice. Tyreese was singing, almost under his breath. Rick could hardly hear the words, but he paused, kneeling at the head of Beth’s tomb.

Sasha joined in, taking her brother’s hand, her voice lending strength to his, their voices strong and clean, if lacking the grace of Beth’s.

“ _O Shenandoah, I love your daughter,  
Away, you rolling river,”_

Daryl’s head tipped back and Rick could see the clean streaks across his face. Rick knew there was something there that needed talking about, but now wasn’t the time. But he would make time.

Carol’s voice, tuneless but sweet, joined the siblings, followed by Tara and Rosita who sung unburdened by anguish but with heart. Glenn picked the tune up with Carl, Maggie holding his hand gratefully.

_“O Shenandoah, I love your daughter  
Away I’m bound to go ‘cross the wide Missouri.”_

A deep baritone started up and Rick almost fell over when he saw that Abraham was the source. Father Gabriel sung with precision, vainly trying to drag the pitch in the right direction. Rick felt the smallest tug of a smile at the edge of his mouth. _  
_

 _“O Shenandoah, I long to hear you,_  
Away, you rolling river,  
O Shenandoah, I long to hear you,  
Away I’m bound to go ‘cross the wide Missouri.”

The words weren’t quite right, the tune not quite something that would have been in Beth’s favourite songs to sing, and the voices were rough and raw and unskilled. But there was some beauty there. The high notes soared amongst the golden trees and it felt for a moment that the birds were picking up the tune. As they went into the final verse they were all singing, mournfully, lowly, proudly. They misspoke occasionally, those who didn’t know the words a little behind.

But it was perfect, Rick realised as he looked up at them all, framing their fallen friend, the leaves swirling down to blanket her, sending her off in song, as best as they could. She would have liked this.

 _“O Shenandoah, I long to see you,_  
Away, you rolling river,  
O Shenandoah, I long to see you,  
Away I’m bound to go ‘cross the wide Missouri.”

Rick sang quietly to Judy’s ear and vowed to keep the music in her life. He looked down at the face of Beth Greene and for a moment could have sworn she was smiling, her hands clasping wildflowers over her heart. Rick kissed Judy on the head and leant them both over as he let the earth fall.

“Thank you.”


End file.
